Keep the Secrets, Sell the Lies
by MyDeceptiveSmile
Summary: With her eyebrow lowered again, Carmine smirked. “Very good, Detective. Usually I wait until at least the third date before they see my lacey gear,” she drawled, “you must be something special.” Indeed.


It was a Monday afternoon, so she hadn't been expecting many customers

It was a Monday night, so she hadn't been expecting many customers. The ones she did receive were always the same though: men in dead-end jobs. They were either alcoholics, or close to it; and always came in wearing the same disorientated look. She liked to think of herself as a people-watcher, and liked to create backgrounds for everyone who placed an order with her.

"Excuse me."

She turned around, flipping a hand towel over her shoulder. Quickly, she sized the two up. They didn't look like her usual customers, but who was she to judge? "What can I get for you two today?"

The paler of the two shook his head, "we're actually not here for a drink."

With this being said, she knew exactly who they were, and why they were here. Her face fell solemn, and she immediately beckoned one of her other bartenders over to take her place. "You're here about Donovan."

The one who had spoken before merely nodded, but the second verbalized his agreement. He flashed his badge, but not a smile. "My name's Eric Delko and this is Ryan Wolfe. We're with the MDPD."

She held her hand out for the two to shake (separately, of course), and introduced herself as Carmine. She was of either Spanish or Cuban decent, that much could be seen through her tanned skin and full head of black curls. She also had the remnants of an accent, like she had moved to Miami at some point in her life.

She had nice legs that she showed off with the bar's black miniskirt, CSI Delko noted, but was not of a tall stature. When she stepped around the counter to talk to the two men more privately, she was wearing a pair of kitten heels which only put her at about five foot five, so on flat foot she would've had to have been between five foot three and five foot four.

Even though the upstairs bar was not busy, the lower-level club was packed. She was easily lost in the crowd, as she weaved in and out of people without so much as a second glance or care. Thankfully, both CSIs were tall enough to spot the dip in the crowd that Carmine created, and were able to follow her to the V.I.P lounge at the back.

Carmine nodded at the bouncer standing in front of the door, before making her way inside. She gasped audibly at what she saw: two guys bent over the glass table in the middle, with about four or five girls spread out around the room. To anyone that was standing near her, they would've seen the horrendously homicidal look on her face, but to anyone who knew her, they would've known that disappointment fueled that look.

"Martin, what are you doing?" she spit out in Spanish.

One of the guys looked up, a completely spaced out look on his face, before the feminine voice registered in his brain. "Carmine, it isn't what it looks like –"

"Co_caine_ isn't what it looks like?" she screeched, her Spanish coming out quicker and quicker the angrier she got. "You do Cocaine back here? How dare you soil my club by doing that shit here!" She grabbed a nearby magazine and rolled it up. With more ferocity then was thought of for a girl of her size, she continued to swear and beat her brother over the head with the magazine.

Finally, CSI Delko grabbed a hold of her wrist and pulled her back. "If any of you want to be arrested for Cocaine possession, you can stay."

With that warning ringing in their ears, the seven of them stood, gathering their things and stumbling quickly from the room. Carmine glared at the door until Eric released her. When he did, she took a deep breath before calmly walking to the door. Her voice was muffled because of the loud music outside, but both men knew what she said.

"Don't let anyone in until I leave, and if anyone comes in here trying to use this room for crack-sniffing, kick them out, no matter who they are."

When she returned, her look was that of indifference, as if she were trying to forget what just happened. Instead, she took the lead and began talking while she offered the two men a seat in front of her. "Donovan came in here regularly. Everyone in here knew him, and despite the fact that he was always drunk, it was hard to hate him," she smiled weakly, briefly meeting the eyes of both of the CSIs.

"So you wouldn't know who would want to hurt him?" Eric prompted, after sharing a look with Ryan.

Carmine laughed. "Donovan was the sweetest man I had ever met."

Ryan caught Carmine's eye, his gaze searching for some kind of understanding. "Were you involved with Donovan, Carmine?"

The laugh Carmine released was more of a shocked one than anything. Sure, Donovan was an attractive man, but Carmine had a thing for more tanned men. Plus, Donovan had a troubled life, one that Carmine didn't want to get too tangled in. "Have you searched his apartment?"

"Yes," Eric Delko answered, looking right at her, "and there seems to be a lot of stuff in there that belongs to a woman. Might any of it be yours?"

Carmine nodded. "I was over at Donovan's a lot."

When she didn't expand her answer, both CSIs looked at each other before Eric took the reigns and prompted her.

Carmine sighed. "I guess nothing's going to remain a secret now, is it?"

When neither responded, she flippantly sat back against her chair. "Sure, when I first met Donovan I was attracted to him, I mean, who wasn't? But the guy was seriously troubled. I mean, he must've been the 'kid on the wrong side of the tracks' growing up. His father was a heroine addict who beat his mother."

It must've been the same old story for the CSIs, but Carmine noticed the look that flickered across CSI Delko's face when she mentioned how Donovan's father beat his mother. "Did I hit a sore spot, Mr. Delko?"

The man in question looked up; as if he hadn't noticed the pregnant pause Carmine took. Instead, he ignored the question and barreled through. "We also found a pair of black lacey –"

"Unmentionables?" Carmine quirked her eyebrow, testing the Cuban detective. The paler CSI was forgotten, as the two stared wordlessly.

Eric didn't need to speak to convey his message. He blinked as little as possible, and had a look on his face that clearly meant he didn't find it humorous.

With her eyebrow lowered again, Carmine smirked. "Very good, Detective. Usually I wait until at least the third date before they see my lacey gear," she drawled, "you must be something special."

As far as she was concerned, the questioning was over. She stood, waving off the entire matter. "Let me know if you need anything else, Detectives, my club is yours."

Carmine made her way back up to the bar, where the mass had suddenly increased. It smelled a little of smoke, but more of pre-sex. It was dark out, for whenever the front door open, no light filtered in. She had just served a woman an Appletini, when she felt her lower back tingle. The sensation was astonishing, but she liked it. A lot.

Looking up, she noticed the deep brown melting eyes of a certain Miami Dade CSI. He smirked, a catastrophic difference from when she first met him. He didn't stay, though, but just continued past to his vehicle with Ryan Wolfe.

"Hmm… he's a nice little number," one of the more flamboyant male bartenders whispered to Carmine.

Carmine pursed her lips at the door. Indeed.


End file.
